Change of Opinions
by HollowIsTheWorld
Summary: Arthur didn't like Merlin. Merlin didn't like Arthur. But, as time went by, they began to grow progressively more fond of each other. Perhaps they could be friends. And maybe, just maybe, after they mastered that, they could try being something else. Something more.
1. Meeting

**AN:** My first attempt at writing romance. Let me know how I do. This will be seven chapters, all structured like this one, with one of the boys thinking about the other, all in third person, likely with very little dialouge. This one takes place during the first episode, but the rest will probably not give more than a light nod to any specific episode, and since it will turn into slash, it will obviously become AU at some point. I apologize for any mistakes.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Merlin. I'm not even British.

* * *

No one would ever accuse Merlin of being good with first impressions. He'd strode up to Arthur with all the confidence in the world and it never once occurred to him that the boy being picked on would probably have not been putting up with the abuse he was getting unless the bully was someone who really shouldn't be trifled with.

He'd gone on to then be _friendly_ towards Arthur, the very man he'd been standing up to. That had really stunned Arthur. It was strange enough for this boy to not have the faintest idea who he was, or to go up against a group of boys who were clearly much stronger and more powerful than he was, but then he was willing to be friends with him. Perhaps he had some sort of death wish.

Merlin had then continued with his oddness by being very much unimpressed with Arthur, even after being put in a vice-like grip with one arm pinned behind his back and being informed that he'd angered the crown prince of Camelot.

Arthur didn't like this strange boy.

The prince was amused to come across Merlin again so shortly afterwards. It was so rare for him to find anyone who would give him a hard time, especially some weakling, gawky peasant with no sense of self-preservation. It was rather fun to exchange insults with him.

He'd been annoyed but entertained when Merlin told him he could take him apart with less than one blow. Was the boy a complete imbecile?

Arthur would go to his grave swearing he'd been going easy on Merlin during their ensuing fight - he could hardly kill a peasant just for being an irritant, could he? - but he'd been stunned at how well Merlin had held his own. The boy couldn't even hold a mace properly but he'd been determined, at the very least. Arthur didn't know what had come over him though, he wasn't usually so clumsy.

He hadn't been planning on letting Merlin go after he was done teaching him his lesson. He really hadn't. But there was something about Merlin. He was clearly an idiot, there was no denying it, but maybe there was more to him than that. He did seem to have a lot of courage. Not as much as he did stupidity, but an awful lot nonetheless.

Arthur didn't like him, but he was just a tiny bit impressed by him.

He'd barely noticed Merlin at the feast. He'd been busy pretending to pay attention to his father's speech - really, what was the point of them? Nobody listened anyway - and then listening to their guest sing.

Arthur had thought for a moment that she had a lovely voice, then wondered why she had to sing in a foreign language, and then he'd been waking up covered in cobwebs.

Arthur had been more than a little bewildered by that. He couldn't imagine how he'd fallen asleep - he hadn't been that bored, had he? - and where the _hell_ did all these cobwebs come from? There was an old woman pinned beneath the chandelier and Arthur couldn't decide if he was more confused by her presence - who was she? - or by the fact that the chandelier had fallen on top of her - surely it had been more securely attached to the ceiling than that?

He didn't have much time to wonder though, because the woman was pulling herself up as best she could, pulling a knife from her sleeve, and throwing it with truly remarkable aim for an old woman who was pinned down under a chandelier.

Even with all his years of knight training and his well-honed instincts and reflexes, Arthur had no time to move. Time seemed to slow as the blade spun towards him, relentlessly targeting his heart. He dimly felt hands on his shoulders, pulling him away and down until he was hitting the floor in a tangle of limbs with that insolent peasant that suddenly seemed to be showing up everywhere.

Arthur felt that he handled the entire thing rather well. People with less self-control would surely be much more panicked about being almost assassinated by some crazy old crone. He was pleased with himself, but he'd been quite unable to control his response when his father announced that Merlin was to be his new, personal manservant.

His protests had gone unnoticed by his father. He'd looked towards Merlin, who looked as thoroughly displeased about this idea as he felt, and they both turned away from each other in disgust.

Merlin had saved Arthur's life, but he didn't like him.


	2. Enduring

**An: **Wow, up for two days and I've already got three favorites, four alerts, and a review? Combine that with the snow we've been getting and Christmas has come early. I actually had this chapter done yesterday and I was going to post it, but then I decided I didn't like it after all and I deleted the whole thing and started over again. And here it is!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Merlin. I wouldn't have dragged out the wait for Arthur to find out about Merlin's magic this long if I did.

* * *

There were days when Merlin wanted nothing more than to drop Arthur's armor right onto the prince's thick skull. The idea of other people needing to sleep or eat - or _breathe_, for that matter - seemed completely foreign to the other man.

Day after day, Merlin had to get up early, choke down a bowl of porridge that was usually either scalding or freezing, and then run down to the kitchens to get the prince what was probably a six-course meal. And _then_ he had to stand there and watch as Arthur ate and fussily picked out what he considered to be the best parts of the meal. Honestly, couldn't Merlin even get some leftovers?

No, of course not. That would be far too nice of Arthur. Merlin had begun to respect Arthur more, and could admit to liking him a little bit - especially after the whole incident with Nimueh and poison - but that didn't change the fact that the prince was an _utter_ prat. If it weren't for that dragon spouting prophesies and destinies, Merlin would have given up on him completely by now.

Then there was the training. Why it had to be Merlin that Arthur relentlessly hit upside the head with a mace and used as target practice was beyond him. Weren't there knights for this sort of thing? Wasn't this _their_ job?

The next time they were ambushed by bandits Merlin was a little more grateful for it because at least he could do a decent enough job of blocking, but did Arthur really have to hit him so _hard_? Most nights he returned to his room with the sound of metal on metal ringing obnoxiously in his ears and giving him a headache.

And he didn't even want to get started on the constant hunting trips. Just what was so grand about going out and stabbing things with sharp sticks and sticking them with arrows? It was disgusting and messy and dangerous, and it was usually raining. Merlin didn't like getting wet.

He couldn't understand why Arthur continued to drag him along; it had been well established that Merlin never did anything but scare off the game. And yes, maybe sometimes he did it on purpose in the hopes that maybe, eventually, Arthur would get the hint and stop bringing him along. But, no. Arthur was far too stubborn for that.

Of course, there was also the fact that the one day Merlin didn't go along would be the day that Arthur got attacked by something and needed Merlin to save his royal backside. Not that Merlin would get any thanks for it.

No, he'd be made fun of for lying in the dirt while everyone else fought because Arthur was too much of a self-centered idiot for it to occur to him that tree branches don't usually fall on peoples' heads so conveniently, and experienced swordsmen aren't in the habit of dropping their swords for no good reason, and there wasn't any real reason for the horses to spook like that. Which was the point, Merlin certainly didn't _want_ to be executed or burned at the stake, but that didn't mean he couldn't be grouchy about it.

Merlin wanted to like Arthur, he really did, because now there were times when he could see Arthur's potential to be a good man, but Arthur made it very difficult sometimes. Well, most times, actually.

Still, there were things that made Arthur durable. When he'd risked his life to get Merlin the antidote after Nimueh poisoned him, when he'd helped Mordred escape - a nice gesture, even if the dragon was right and they should have let him die - and when he'd gone to Ealdor to help them fight off bandits even though it wasn't his responsibility and Ealdor wasn't even a part of Camelot.

There were little things too. He'd make jokes with Merlin over breakfast sometimes, or the two of them would make fun of some visiting lord together. Arthur would good-naturedly tease Merlin about his crush on Morgana, which made Merlin blush, but he recognized it as being something that friends do. He would have returned the gesture if Arthur was interested in anyone besides that one crazy woman who tried to sacrifice him.

Really, Arthur had no taste.

Merlin didn't know if it was the pull of destiny or a strong friendship that he didn't really want to admit to having, but he refused to let anything happen to Arthur. No matter what it cost him, he would protect Arthur.

If he was asked, it was just because of destiny. No way he was admitting to actually liking Arthur.

It wasn't until the incident with the unicorn that he'd realized the feeling was mutual. Watching Arthur drink from that goblet, watching him fall, had been one of the most terrifying moments in Merlin's life.

As he ran to him, as he yelled at the old sorcerer who was responsible, all he could think was _'this was for me. He did this so that I wouldn't have to.'_

The idea that Arthur would do such a thing was more than Merlin could wrap his head around. So, when Arthur told him he'd done it for the good of Camelot, even though he hadn't known that was what he had to do, Merlin had nodded and pretended to believe him.

Because the idea of him and the royal prat becoming friends - real, loyal, honest, not-just-destiny-bound friends - was just a bit too much for him.

But really, by now, he'd taken to liking Arthur. Even if he was an utter prat. Which he was. But Merlin felt he'd be much less fun to be around if he wasn't. And he happened to like Arthur the way he was.

_"Merlin!"_

Well, most of the time, anyway.


	3. Rescuing

**AN:** Really not sure how much I like this chapter. It certainly put up more of a fight about being written than the last two did. You guys will have to let me know what you think.

**Disclaimer****:** As a general rule, broke college students tend not to be the owners of successful BBC/Syfy shows.

* * *

Arthur only ever really noticed it about Merlin and Merlin only ever really noticed it about Arthur, but both boys seemed to be incredibly incident-prone. It didn't seem to be through any fault of their own, it was as though every potentially dangerous thing - be it witches, bandits, or falling rocks - was inexplicably drawn to the prince and his manservant.

There were days when Arthur wanted to lock Merlin in the castle, just to spare himself the trouble - and worry, though he'd never admit it - of keeping an eye on him. The flaw in this plan being the fact that Merlin seemed to attract just as much trouble inside the castle as out.

Arthur had dragged Merlin out on a hunting trip, as per usual, but Merlin was being especially stubborn today. He was tired and sore and it had been raining, which led to him feeling as though he had been soaked through to the bone and now he was going to get dreadfully sick and die a painful and slow death, and how would Arthur feel then?

Arthur laughed when Merlin voiced this opinion, and told Merlin that it would be a great relief to Camelot and then he could finally get himself a decent servant for once, and then maybe they'd actually catch something because, really, no one could ever be as truly awful at hunting as Merlin was.

To this Merlin replied that Arthur could simply leave him at home and then that last problem would be solved and everyone would be happier. Arthur only laughed and made another comment about how Merlin truly was a girl.

This continued on for hours, Merlin sulking and Arthur teasing him, while the accompanying knights were listening with amusement and pretending not to be paying attention. No one noticed the ambush until it was fully upon them.

Their attackers had come at them from all sides, swords out, clubs held high, shouting at the top of their lungs. The knights and Arthur had fought and Merlin had stood in the back, just out of the fighting area, using his small tricks to cause the bandits to trip over the air or suffer similar accidents.

Merlin was too busy protecting Arthur to notice the man coming up behind him. A club collided with his skull with a sickening _crack_ and he fell limply to the ground.

The knights sent the bandits running quickly enough - they _were_ professionals, after all - and Arthur noticed Merlin's absence almost immediately. He launched into search mode with fervor.

Luckily for the prince and his knights, the bandits had no great skill for covering their tracks. They found the camp easily enough, although it wasn't quite what they were expecting. The campsite was filled with prisoners, tied and chained and caged all throughout the clearing the bandits were inhabiting.

_"Slave traders,"_ breathed one of the knights.

Arthur only nodded mute agreement, because there was really nothing to say to something like that, and the only thought he was managing was a dreadful image of Merlin as a slave, whipped and tied, beaten down and broken.

Not Merlin. Merlin was _his_, and he was damned if he was going to let anyone hurt him that way. Arthur was going to rescue his manservant, no matter how many suicidal charges it might take him to manage it.

Leon located the servant first, pointing him out to Arthur quietly. The manservant appeared to still be unconscious, lying on the dirt with his hands and feet bound.

Arthur led them around, slipping quietly through the trees. They went unnoticed by the bandit, likely because most of them were far too drunk to possibly notice anything, even a bunch of men wearing chainmail and red capes.

They got to Merlin with relative ease and Arthur cut through the ropes - somewhat awkwardly, since the prince was using his sword - and shook the servant awake. It took Merlin a moment, but his eyes finally opened. They were glazed over and he seemed somewhat out of it, but overall he was unhurt.

This was entirely too much good luck for them and it just couldn't continue. No sooner had Arthur pulled Merlin unsteadily to his feet than one of the bandits appeared to sober up sufficiently to realize that the knights from the court of Camelot really shouldn't be in the middle of their camp, cutting people loose.

The whole camp was coming after them within thirty seconds. Apparently, the bandits were good at teamwork, even if they failed at everything else.

Arthur pushed Merlin behind him with an order to _"Stay behind me, Merlin,"_ and raised his sword. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the other knights doing the same, forming a semicircle around Merlin protectively.

Merlin would have protested. He could take care of himself perfectly well, thank you very much - well, most of the time. But this was Arthur's fault really, not his - but he knew he'd be better off with the knights facing away from him, unable to see what he was doing.

Arthur led a charge to meet the bandits with a wordless shout which was echoed by the knights. The air filled with the sounds of battle cries, the clang of swords, and cheers of encouragement coming from the prisoners the slave traders had tied up around the campsite.

Arthur didn't think much of it when the man he was fighting dropped his sword with a yelp, and only considered himself lucky when a branch fell from overhead and knocked out one of his opponents. At the end of the fight, he and all the other knights were too exalted with themselves in light of their victory to exchange stories and realize that fate had certainly been against the bandits today.

No one noticed Merlin smirking with pride and shaking his head in mild amusement and possible adoration over Arthur's obliviousness.

The knights freed the prisoners from around the camp and used the chains and ropes to tie up the bandits, ready to escort them back to Camelot for a trial that was not going to end well for them. It was no secret that Uther was very protective of his son.

Arthur never actually told Merlin he'd been worried, and shrugged off the servant's thanks with a comment of _"Oh, it was nothing. I'd just hate to have to hire a new servant. So much work involved,"_ to which Merlin had simply rolled his eyes. He saw right through the prince's façade, but he didn't mention it out loud.

Arthur simply felt very pleased with himself the whole way home. He'd successfully rescued Merlin, caught some bandits, and had himself a good fight. All in all, a very good day. And he liked to think that he'd sent out a message about messing with Merlin.

Arthur had grown fond of the insolent, big-eared excuse for a manservant, and he was _not_ going to let anyone hurt the boy. After all, without Arthur's protection, Merlin would be completely helpless.


	4. Tracking

**AN: **I am so ready for Thanksgiving break. I love college, but it's exhausting.

**Disclaimer: **I wish I owned Merlin. It would be much easier to pay for college.

* * *

Merlin was a worrier. He really couldn't help it. He worried about Gaius, who was working too hard for his old age. He worried about Gwen, having to take care of herself. He worried about Gwaine, who always managed to get himself into trouble. He worried about Morgana, first with her struggles to deal with magic, then with the knowledge that she was betraying Camelot, and now with the fact that she was still out there somewhere, waiting to kill Arthur.

Most of all, he worried about Arthur. Arthur, who really was a fantastic warrior, but that didn't make him as invincible as the newly crowned king liked to think it did. Arthur, who would always sacrifice himself before allowing anything to happen to anyone he cared about - which was pretty much anyone in the entire kingdom.

And he always had to do it alone! Why Arthur insisted on sneaking off to sacrifice himself at every available opportunity was a mystery to Merlin.

He pointedly ignored the voice that labeled itself 'common sense' and tried to tell him that he did the exact same thing. That wasn't the point. _He_ had magic. Arthur had a sword and a lack of observational skills. So Merlin worried. Constantly.

So, after Arthur had disappeared without Merlin's knowledge and tried to get himself killed _again_, Merlin decided he had very much had enough of that.

It took a little longer than usual for Merlin to find the spell he was looking for since he didn't want Gaius to find out what he was doing. The old physician probably wouldn't approve of the violation of the king's privacy, no matter that it was for Arthur's own good.

Merlin found it at last, and quietly whispered the foreign words at the king one night while he slept. He felt his eyes flash gold and he was almost immediately assured that the enchantment had worked.

He went to his own room and fell asleep, worrying considerably less than usual.

Arthur noticed that Merlin was suddenly appearing _everywhere_, but couldn't come up with any rational explanation beyond that it was _Merlin_, and if he wasn't pestering Arthur he seemed to think he wasn't doing his job properly.

Nobody was really complaining though - except, maybe, for Arthur. Everyone else appreciated that the king's servant could always find the king, regardless of where he'd disappeared off to. Often made things considerably more simple.

It became a game of balance between the king and the servant. Merlin knew that sometimes Arthur needed some time alone and some space to breath, and so long as he knew where he was and that he was alright, Merlin was more than happy to let him have it. The trick was knowing when the king wanted to be left alone, knowing when he thought he wanted to be alone but really wanted someone to talk to, and when Arthur was just being a prat and seeing how long it would take Merlin to find him.

Merlin always seemed to know the answer. He wasn't sure exactly _how_ he knew, but he only rarely got it wrong. Arthur never thanked him - at least, not out loud. Merlin saw the thanks in the softening of his eyes, quirks of smiles around the corners of his mouth.

Arthur wasn't the type to voice feelings, but he didn't need to. Not to Merlin. Merlin would call him out if he was being an idiot and _did_ need to voice what he was thinking, but that usually only applied when Arthur needed to talk to one of the knights, or to Gwen. Not everyone knew Arthur as well as Merlin did.

Arthur liked to pretend that he wished Merlin would just back off and leave him alone, but he knew - as little as he liked to admit it - that he needed the other man's company. There were days when the pressure of ruling a kingdom was suffocating. Days when he wished he could just stay in bed all day and let someone else rule the kingdom. But there was no one else. Not really.

The weight of the world was back-breaking. He confided to Merlin one night that he was beginning to lose hope. His father had never seemed to feel this weight that Arthur was struggling under. Why couldn't he be the king his father had been?

Merlin had hesitated before responding, worried that he may be about to cross a line with Arthur. Finally, he asked a simple question. _"Are you sure your father felt it?"_

Arthur had looked up at his friend, confused. Merlin had sighed. _"You worry more about your people than he ever did, Arthur. You know that."_

Arthur had tried to deny it, but he'd known it was true. How many times had he and his father argued over what was best for the kingdom because he put more stock in the well-being of the common citizens than Uther did? Maybe the weight was his own.

Merlin had put a hand on Arthur's shoulder and told him it was a good thing. That fighting under a weight like that was how he could reassure himself that he was doing the right thing. He'd then forced Arthur into bed, stating that the king had drank too much that night and had an early morning meeting tomorrow.

Merlin had left, leaving Arthur lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering where his manservant's flashes of wisdom came from. He felt like there was something about Merlin he should know, something that would explain everything, but he fell asleep before he could grasp it. The next morning the feeling was gone, but he remembered the conversation. He said nothing, but he smiled gratefully at Merlin over breakfast. Merlin smiled back and went back to his usual dorky self.

Merlin was always keeping an eye on Arthur, because he worried. He'd always be there for his friend. No matter what. It didn't matter if Arthur was aware of that or not. So long as Merlin always knew where Arthur was, he'd always manage to save him.


	5. Hoping

**AN: **So, all of you wonderful people who are following this story, think one of you could drop me a review? Please? I'd appreciate it.

**Disclaimer:** As per usual, I don't own Merlin. If I did, there would be no news floating about that there will be no season six. Also, I wouldn't be behind on watching season five.

* * *

Merlin had realized that his feelings towards the king of Camelot were a bit beyond friendly some time ago. He had also realized that he couldn't tell say anything about it to Arthur. His feelings could never amount to anything.

It wasn't the fact that they were both men; that really wasn't terribly uncommon. As long as you didn't make a spectacle of it, no one really cared. Uther wouldn't have been terribly happy about it, but Arthur was slowly getting used to not modeling his actions on what his father had believed. The only real obstacle there was the matter of heirs, something that could be solved by adoption or taking in wards. Not like Arthur was exactly jumping to have children.

It wasn't the difference in social class. Merlin had never cared about that, a fact that had gotten him into trouble countless times already, and Arthur had been steadily revising his own opinions for some time now. Again, not something Uther - or most of the other nobles, really - would have been pleased to hear, but not truly an obstacle. They could hardly tell the king what social classes he was allowed to associate with. They weren't nearly important enough for that. Their opinions might have mattered to Uther, but Arthur hadn't cared for them even at the best of times.

It wasn't even doubt. Merlin was fairly certain that the feeling was at least somewhat mutual. He could see it sometimes, when he allowed the romantic part of himself to look. Love was visible in the soft smiles and the calm blue eyes. The way Arthur looked when he was watching Merlin and thought no one else could see. Merlin didn't let himself look for it often. It was a heart wrenching experience.

He also knew that Arthur would never make the first move. He had always been afraid that people would do as he asked just because he was the prince, and now it was even worse because he was the king. He hated the idea of taking advantage of someone by using his title. He really was a good man.

No, the only true obstacle keeping Merlin from saying anything to Arthur was secrets. Or, technically, one enormous secret. Merlin could never be involved with Arthur without telling Arthur about his magic. It wouldn't be right, wouldn't be fair, not to either of them. And Arthur was not ready to know yet.

The king still couldn't see magic as anything other than what his father had always told him it was. Merlin sometimes wondered if Arthur would ever be able to, regardless of what the dragon and Gaius were always telling him.

The dragon just made things worse. Merlin may not be seeing him as much now that Kilgharrah was no longer chained up beneath the castle, but the beast seemed to be making his speeches more targeted than before. It was bad enough for Merlin to be yearning after a man he could never have without this all-knowing, prophesy-spewing, giant, flying lizard telling him that their destinies were intertwined and that they were two sides of the same coin every time it opened its fang-filled mouth.

And Gaius, always pointing out Arthur's most redeeming qualities whenever Merlin was trying to be angry with the king. Of course, Gaius only mentioned the things like courage, loyalty, kindness, and so on. The old physician would have had a heart attack if he ever knew that Merlin's thoughts had a tendency to drift towards slightly less noble qualities, such as Arthur's golden hair, his defined muscles, his… _No._ No, he need to stop that train of thought right there.

The knights were awful about it sometimes. They never said anything, at least, not where Merlin or Arthur could overhear, but it was clear they'd noticed. _How_ they noticed things like quick, longing glances when they couldn't see Merlin's eyes flashing gold in the middle of every fight they'd ever gotten into was more than the young warlock could fathom, but he knew better than to start looking gift horses in their mouths.

Still, Merlin saw the sympathetic looks. Gwaine would smile at him sadly, feeling terrible that his closest friend was hurting, longing for a man he could never have. Gwaine didn't understand _why_ Merlin felt he could never have Arthur, but he acknowledged that Merlin was certain of it and didn't press.

Leon too. He would watch the two of them sometimes, and it was clear that he hated the fact that his king and such a close friend were miserable. Merlin appreciated that they didn't push, didn't ask him to talk about it. Talking about it, thinking about it, it might cause him to hope. And sometimes hoping hurt too much. Sometimes it was easier to believe the worst. To expect the worst. He couldn't be disappointed that way.

Merlin loved Arthur, but he'd never say so. He could never say so.


End file.
